Salt
by Naaer- inactive
Summary: A new beginning for them both, but still there is so much left to say. Post-JE.
1. He Sees

Yes, I started another one, naughty me, but I was re-reading thebadwitch13's lovely 'One Heart' [id:6452234] and just had to write something post-JE. This will probably be like my two-shot 'Hybrid', but digging into different aspects. Not sure where this will take me, but, let's find out! :D

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The salt tang of the frigid Norwegian sea assaults his nostrils and all he can think about is how very weary he feels.

He knows he should be fighting back, protesting at his abandonment here. But the words never come.

Rose stands between them, a wall, and it is all he can do to stop himself from imploding with anger at his sire. That is he is so ready to just leave them here. Of course he would cast a clone alone aside, but his point it that it is Rose he is casting aside this time. The companion that time and time again came back to his side, ready to leave everything she had. Just for him.

And, now, what did had he done?

He threw that back in her face.

His fists begin to clench, but a look from her stilled him. Back and forth, her gaze went, deciding.

And underneath, the ultimate question. _Would she stay with him?_

Would she even want to have to babysit a genocidal basket-case?

Their eyes met for a second, but the Doctor's flicked quickly away. He could see on the Time Lord's face that he knew this was wrong. That he could keep her, keep them both, but all the while _he_, the half-human would always be there. Silently reminding him of what he was capable of.

And so he did what he always chose to do. Like the coward he was, he ran.

He didn't care if he simply ran because he couldn't say those words to Rose, in fear of her not saying it back. He fully well knew that she did. SHe said it first!

His thoughts were distracted, single heart thrumming as his sire gave him the chance to give what he himself wouldn't. What he couldn't do. Gently leaned towards Rose, noticing the confusion registering on her face, and -finally- said it.

And, no, he didn't expect her reaction: hands fisting tightly on his suit lapels, submerging him a a breath-taking kiss. _Finally._

He dimly registered his sire's seething jealously -at _himself, _pathetic was that?- but it was all under the guise of a wistful smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

But even as he lost himself in it, the scrunch of a rubber sole on sand and the clack of wooden doors made his breath catch. _He really did it. Walked away._

Rose was the first to pull away, leaving disappointment to surge through him as she broke their connection, hurrying a few steps forward and then stopping, realizing there was no stopping _him._

When the Doctor made a decision, that was it. Finished. Done. Finito.

They had each other now.

But as the TARDIS dematerialized -the sounds of the Universe echoing over the planes of the godforsaken beach- two hearts fractured that little bit more.


	2. He Wonders

More chapters to come after this :3 This is after he's taken Donna's memory... *sniffs*

And, wow, too many 'him's floating around in the ether here. Ohwell.

* * *

The Doctor -the real Time Lord, weary and rain-spattered- walks slowly up the ramp, his feet almost silent on the grating. The TARDIS -his one constant companion throughout the long book of his life- hums softly in his mind, sensing his distress.

As he shucks over his damp jacket, throwing it with careless abandon to the side somewhere, he notices how eerily silent it is.

Just like the many times before. Before Donna, when he's been talking to himself as he studied some alien equipment, his excitement colouring his words, raising his voice- only for him to look up, and meet the empty, cavernous interior.

He throws a few switches, presses a few buttons, sending the TARDIS into the Vortex, but not really caring anymore.

He leans again the console, and thinks about how he left Rose behind. Thinks about him -his other self- the one who he left with her. The woman he-

Something programmed automatically into him makes him steel himself again.

_What use are emotions if you will not save the woman you love?_

How could it be that it took just a _Dalek_ to say what he couldn't even admit to _himself_?

The scene replays itself over and over in his mind, like a broken recrod, the images blurring and melting and merlting together until it he is only seconds away from slamming a hand down onto the littered console surface.

In his anger, he does.

The throbbing in his fist jerks him sharply back to reality, the emptiness of his time vessel, the wash of annoyance she sends crashing over him. _The emptiness of himself._

The images of Donna begging, _pleading_ him have burned themselves onto his retinas. He can't let it go.

_But_, he reasons with himself, that faint nagging at his subconscious, that he had to. To save them. He did it for _them_.

_Did you, though? Really? Or was it just so you didn't have to face the truth? _the voice prompts.

He slumps again the console now, far forward, spread-eagled upon the haberdashery of controls. His forehead rests again the crystal-glass column, closing his eyes and tuning himself in to the soothing vibrations the steady oscillations send out. breath shallow.

He'd given her up. His Rose. To a man who looked liked him, walked and talked and thought like him -but that _wasn't him._

She, who had worked hard to get back to him, who stood by him as the Daleks glided by and Davros taunted the Doctor - and had not once cried out in fear. Hadn't begged of him, asked anything of him. Had just been there.

She had crossed so many worlds, base jumping day after day, all to no avail. But then she met Donna -the Donna who turned left- and knew this was her chance to somehow reach him.

_Bad wolf here, Bad Wolf there. Hither and thither, chasing them everywhere._

It was like the Master said; how many companions could absorb the Time Vortex and still live to speak of it?

And what had he done? Ran away from it.

From himself. The Him that wasn't him. That had forever with Rose.

_But who promised the forever in the first place?_ A dark part of him wished he'd never met her. Bloody humans and their convoluted emotions.

He slumps further down the console, arms spread, offering what is left of himself for his one companion to heal.

He gave him -them- forever. But for how long?

He said it so; the hybrid was born in the midst of bloodshed and war. _Remind you of someone?_

He had the temperament of his former, leather-clad, steely self. He needed to heal. And she could do that. Heal him. _He needs you. That's very me._

His hearts hearts had ached as she finally kissed him. But not _him._

He turned tail, away from the sight, hoping the promise he made would hold true.

After all, it was something he himself could never have. That was the curse of the Time Lords.


	3. She Waits

She tries convince herself that the tears in her eyes are not real tears, that is just the wind on this damned beach, making her eyes sting and water.

She can see, as he leans towards her, the pain in those soulful brown orbs that reflect her own. Stands, brimming with apprehension and perhaps a little trepidation. She is happy -somewhat- but it's all so sudden. Has been just _thrust_ upon her.

All the jumping from world to world has left her feeling listless. So when he does finally say it, the reaction is a bit more delayed than she would've liked.

As he speaks, her heart is then in her mouth. She had seen it coming, but then...not. _Does it need saying?_

Inside she was screaming _yes, you bloody idiot Time Lord, it does!_ She had seen it in his eyes -like the other him- saw his hurt, can hear the fact he means it in his voice, but of course he never can speak those words, and, god, this is confusion.

_Two_ of him! Same face, same voice, same...body. And the slightly clashing burgundy shirt under the other him's blue jacket speaks out. She's not sure; believes it's only the pinstripes and grey shirt and quirky assortment of ties she actually wants.

Really?

Everything seems to be going in slow-motion, the act of him breaking into her personal space oddly disturbing. Rose finds herself wanting to lean away, and this is oh so confusing. She's never do that. Not to him.

He grasps her gently and she fights back the urge to flinch. Again.

The scent of him -strange and yet magical; faint honey and spice and utter _time_- permeates the shell she has created and manages to overpower even the acrid tang of the sea. It is dizzying.

She dimly aware of his lips moving. She's not quite looking at him, just staring into the grey stand beneath her weary feet.

He says it.

Relief. And then...disbelief. She's pretty sure it's evident on her features too.

It was...the truth. Everything sinks in, and a sudden rush of gratitude and _love_ floods her. He's not sugar-coating words now. Those are the eight-lettered words in all their bar simplicity.

The words don't even have time to hang in the air between them, and she's not quite sure what she's doing or what prompted her to but her hands seize his lapels and then suddenly she is kissing him with all the emotion she has.

Even though Rose had barely had time to process the enormity of it all, with the hard-wired part of her jolting her body into action, a deep part worries if this was too much. For a few milliseconds - or something- he doesn't respond.

She panics, knowing there was still too much of the Time Lord there to do something such as kiss her. Because the real him never would.

But _then; _his mouth slants over hers and his arms bind around her, holding her so tightly as he reciprocates, as if he is trying to pull her into his skin, make them one somehow as he pours his soul into her.

It is enough.

But wooden doors clack behind her and the TARDIS sounds, locking into its dematerialization sequence. The sound of the Universe. The sounds that captivated her those 4 long years ago. So long ago. When she was so...naive.

He really is leaving her this time, not even saying goodbye, even though they were given this chance. He can't even look her in the eye and say _goodbye_, for the last time. Ever. Never to come back here.

_No second chances._

She suppresses a sob, deciding to fight back the tears this time, to show that despite her abandonment she is _strong_.

That she'll take what he's given her, even if it was thrust upon her with a few words and a hasty retreat.

She senses him nearing her, and then a hand slips around hers; larger than hers and slightly warmer than normal. A perfect fit.

It is like it belongs there, like his half-human body standing next to hers with its single solitary heart.

That shocked her somewhat, as she had pressed a palm to his chest. Feeling the steady _lubdub_ of it, the pulse thrumming under her hand.

In a way he has still given himself to her. Their interlocked fingers represent that gift, and how much it cost him.

The ever-sacrificial Time Lord has once again sacrificed himself, and the tears- happiness and sorrow this time- threaten to spill. He wants this, want to be with her, live the life that the other him could never have. That sort of adventure he could never take on.

Maybe not normally -and certainly not domestically- but together. A human life.

His eyes are sincere, silently saying all the thoughts the fully Time Lord him had, thoughts that had kept him awake for many nights. _I will never abandon you._

His grip tightens, punctuating his point.

He has given her himself...forever. _The_ forever.

And, maybe, Rose thinks, that is just fine.


	4. He Doesn't See

If there's one thing this Doctor definitely misses, it has to be the steady, soothing hum of his TARDIS (as in _His_ ship, because he was the real Time Lord here...)

Night had fallen like a dusky cloak over the quiet Norwegian town they found themselves in, and its silence fills the hotel corridors as he paces their room. As he does, he glances every now and then, once, twice, over to where Rose is sleeping. Peacefully swathed in dreams, unaware of the torment his mind is undergoing.

A chill pushes itself down his spine, and he shudders, his more human body quickly detecting the falling temperature in their small prison; gooseflesh rising as capillaries constrict in a primitive and rather ineffective way to conserve heat. Even the hairs on the nap of his neck rise, though inside he knows that's nothing to do with the temperature.

He ought to be...travelling. Out _there, _somewhere. Not stuck here, rooted to the Earth.

Even when he was resting in the TARDIS, either slumped in the library, nose buried in a book, or in the kitchen sharing a conversation between cups of tea with Rose, he was still moving somehow.

His eyes flick over, again, to where she lays sleeping, the moonlit streaming in from the window bathing her in white.

His breath catches in his throat, and his single heart pulses madly for a moment. She looked...beautiful; not that he thought otherwise any other time, but with her hair fanning about her head like a halo, limbs lazy with sleep, she appeared to him almost angelic.

And yet, there was a frailty there he noticed at a second glance. Saw the lines of fatigue, the crease in her brow as she tried to ward off unpleasant dreams.

The Doctor -if that's what he still was, to her, to _himself_- padded as silently as he could over to the bed. Perched right at the foot of it, cringing inwards slightly as how the mattress dipped as he did so.

Tried to ignore the second chill creeping down his back, over his skin; the apprehension mounting in him as she shifted in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent.

There was a humming that he picked up everywhere, admittedly, not the humming he was used to and was soothed by, but a humming all the same. It was like...negative energy. Almost automatically, he tasted the air; he was surprised to still be able to pick up chemicals such as human hormones and the like floating in the ether. His as well as her's: tints of adrenaline, from every time she just moved an inch in her sleep..

He didn't want to wake her. Because then she'd notice his sad expression, tired, dull eyes and stooping posture. She'd encourage him to lay down and shut his eyes and then he'd have to enter the dream world.

He would have to _sleep._ And juding by how he felt now, probably until noon the next day.

And then, what if Rose woke up, not to the merry hum of the TARDIS, in his bed, in his room -but to this pale, carbon copy? What if she didn't want him, that that kiss has just been a proxy kiss?

Fear steeped him, making the hairs on his nape stand up again, permeating his skin through the jacket, even though he was wearing at least three layers and the central heating was on in here full blast.

A sigh left him. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, sighing. It was like a hasty breathful of words he wanted to say but they escaped misty and silent, dissolving into the air.

The unbidden sigh was unaturally loud in their tiny room and Rose whimpered in her sleep. He could sense her coming round, the sheets rustling. Some odd emotion pured through him, mouth drying, the back of his neck prickling, his more primitive instinct fighting for dominance.

In a blink, he darted out of the room, just as she yawned widely. Squinted around the room, moving out of the way of the moon's shine. Blinked at she heard the door close quietly.

* * *

In the darkened corridors, he was pacing, every pore oozing tension.

He just didn't know what to do. He was stranded here -and yet it was the most amazing gift ever.

A gift, and a curse.

He had given himself forever, but had, at the same time, condemned himself.

Stopping, leaning against the nearest wall, he pressed the heels of his palms into his face, the depths of his eye-sockets, watching the visual snow behind the black of his eyelids. Blocking everything else out. Hoping it would go away.

Rassilon, his head hurt.

Still had some of his Time Lord mind, coud contain it like Donna wouldn't have been able to. In addition to the soup of emotions already swirling round, there was a new pang of regret and sorrow.

He wasn't sure whether it was his regret.

After all, he wasn't the one who left Rose behind, now was he?

He wasn't human, but he wasn't Time Lord, and no wonder she was confused. By all rights he was a freak of nature, something that shouldn't exist, should be destroyed, he thought to himself bitterly. _Like Jack._

_But, then Jack had forever too, but not with anyone else._

The Doctor could have destroyed him, or at least have kept him contained within his ship. At the way his eyes turned obsidian, mouth a thin, tight line, jaw clenched, when he barked at him, accused him. _What have you done?_

Utter idiot. Sanctimonious idiot.

They were _Daleks_. Forget 'everybody, even enemies, should have a second chance'.

And didn't the Doctor admit he would allow no second chances? That he wasn't that sort a man to give that option so freely.

The human Doctor's gut was tight with anger. His fingers crisped into claws until the nails were digging into his skin, leaving imprints.

He wasn't worth it.

But then a small hand closed around his wrist; that familiar face came right into his, brow creasing with concerning, as he held his hands to his side with one of her own, and gently touched the half-moons on his face.

He tried to looked unaffected.

But Rose, oh, she knew. Could read him like a book, half-human or not. Had always been able to, even with his former self.

"C'mere." It wasn't an order, it was a statement, and yet slightly devoid of emotion.

With listlessness he let him be lead away. They reached the door of their hotel room, sliiped inside. She pulled him over to the bed -his, hers; _theirs? _and pushed him down onto it.

His pulse fluttered and his throat tightened as her small hands suddenly attacked the buttons of his jacket.

He thought that- But, then, it had slipped off his arms, and she was folding it up, silently studying him.

Her gaze was electric, made him feel like he under an x-ray or something. Swallowed, and looked away. All too quickly; she caught her hand under his chin.

"Hey. None of that, alright?" Somehow in the haze the tell-tale trademark Tyler tongue made its way out, resting at the corner of her mouth.

It was oddly appropriate for the situation.

His Converse-clad feet are now, well, bare; she takes his hands in her warmer one, and crawls into the bed with him, all the time watching him carefully.

"Alright?"

His grief-induced haze is steasily fading, but there is still a knife in his one heart. Knowing that he's not sure he can give her this.

"Just...give me time." His voice is scarily quiet.

She nods, thumb stroking the back his hand, dancing across the knuckles, feather-soft.

He just wishes he could give her the same.

* * *

It is going to get happier, I promise D:


	5. He Still Runs

The Doctor soon finds himself aimlessly wondering the roundel-laden corridors of his ship, each one a seeming cul-de-sac.

He comes across old rooms, rooms of previous companions. Even gone, they have left something behind. A few trinkets here, a diary page there.

All have left marks on his heart. The thought of them at least makes the corners of his mouth quirk upwards a little.

But soon the pacing repeats itself; he is bone-weary, haggard, exhausted. But he wouldn't dare to sleep, not now...

The TARDIS soon comes to his rescue, piloting herself to a distant planet where somebody else needs his help. Burbling and chirping in his mind, as if she was pushing him out the door with proverbial hasty hands, until he conceded defeat, chuckling and slipping on his coat.

"Alright, old girl. You know best." There was a hint of amusement colouring his voice as he stroked the console affectionately, but inside his words had a deeper meaner. _Seems you always know what's best for me..._

His vision was bombarded with lush pastel-pink, blue and purple foliage, azure skies and an equally pristine town. The Doctor began to stroll forward, eagerly sucking in his surroundings. The TARDIS doors closed behind him with a click of his fingers, leaving her obscured behind a few trees heavily bearing some pear-like fruit. He shuddered at the sight of them alone.

Rust-coloured bricks formed a curving, unruly path that snaked into the town centre, leading to a little market place. The sights of merchants flogging their wares, busy salesman and customers lazily perusing the stalls upon stalls excited him. In no time the Doctor was at a sleek stall littered with odds and ends of space-ship parts. Just what he needed.

He soon buried himself in this, haggling voraciously with a Carthax, a humanoid vulture-like alien. Its feathers were literally beruffled as the Doctor used charisma even he wasn't sure he had to buy most of the seller's wares. He smirked at his shocked expression, slipping his treasure into the cave of his pockets, before beating a hasty retreat in the opposite direction.

Only, of course, for a glint from the next stall to catch his eye.

It looks suspicious, with its rustic, heavily scarred wooden table and odd merchant -who closely resemble an extravagant bird of Paradise, his red tail plumes sticking behind him like an immense flame of fire. Said merchant, clad in a tattered tunic-like garment and wearing large spectacles that magnified his beady avian eyes, instantly spotted the browsing Doctor, and closed in on his prey. He was an expert at this; flicked a cursory glance at the man a few times, pretended to count his credits, until the Time Lord strode over, eyes all of his wares.

"Ah, you look like a fine young man -come to buy present for family or mate?" His voice was, amusingly heavily accented, with what the Doctor took to be a Russian accent. The merchant waved a hand around, continuing to speak in broken English.

His clawed hands skimmed over the table before snatching something up; eyes wide and beckoning, he held it up to the light. The Doctor squinted at the object. Then, realizing what it was -and what the Carthaxian might be dealing in- he quirked an eyebrow. Some kind of ring. Something van Statten would be hankering after...

"Yeees?"

"Uuummmmm...no. No, thanks..."

"Then how about a preeetty necklace for your lovely _pritkia?_" Another eyebrow raise from the Doctor, and a quiet, warning, "Language..." for the obnoxious bird just used a rather unorthodox term to describe a woman.

He holds up a jewel the colour akin to jade, with a ribbon that looks as if it is made of spun clouds; fluffy, whit but tactile. Light danced in the centre of it, and his hearts clenched. It was almost identical to a Serenity Stone, the ones that were only mined in caves on the highest mountains in Gallifrey...

"Maggasai?" A voice drew him out of his reverie. The Doctor blinked.

"Hm?" But only as he said that, he noticed the vendor had in fact disappeared. Perhaps he'd scampered off, dissuaded by his odd customer...

"_Maggasai." _ That, again. The Doctor thought that the term was a high term to be addresses with indeed; in fact -if he was correct- it was term used to address royalty. Now, he was intrigued.

But just who was calling _him_ that?

A tugging at his sleeve, followed by a soft whimper. Sounds of pottery smashing from a nearby stall reached his ears; sounds of an angry vendor shouting garbled nonsense at the offender, _My amphorae! you klutz!_ and brutish, harsh shadows almost blotting out the sun.

Another tugging. The Doctor craned his neck down, only to find a child blinking up at him. A child that had smooth skin, pale skin and golden locks. She pleaded him with yellow cat's eyes, whispering, "Maggasai, help..."

The Doctor's heart were touched; he was about to bend down, implore the frightened, distinctly un-Carthaxian youngster with his own eyes.

"What's wrong, hm?" His voice was soft and as he spoke the child relinquished her hold a little bit more, scuffing her bare feet on the dusty floor.

And then he noticed the bruises mottling her arms blue and purple. She had a darkness behind her eyes -much like his own. Something this child had experience -that no child ever should- had given her a haunted look. She looked aged beyond her years.

The hand that wasn't assessing the damage with his sonic tightened into a fist in his pocket. Something was very wrong here.

"Well, see, I'm just gonna-" The Doctor was cut off as a thuggish figure tumbled into him; he winced at the man's mass colliding with his ribs, and protectively stood in front of the young girl.

The man before him was more like a culmination of every child's worst nightmare than an actual being; a mixture of fangs, scales, fur and claws, all thrown together with abandon. The thing grunted loudly, snarling at the Doctor, spittle flying from its maw.

The Doctor tried not to look too disgusted.

But then badly-concealed disgust turned to rage and shock as the man-creature roughly shunted the Doctor, sending him to the ground, and began raining blows down on the child's already beaten back.

In a blink his demeanour changed; no longer forgiving, icy, and Rassilon help anyone who would dare stand in his way...

"Don't..." There was no need for him to shout. His voice was quiet, and deadly. It worked somewhat, because the thing squinted at him, trying to possibly assess with its tiny brain if this pipsqueak of a man was actually threatening him. It blinked, once, twice, then grunted again, tugging the child with its gnarled, meaty hands.

"I said..._don't. _Do you know why?"

The creature merely blinked, all the more tightening its grip. The Doctor sighed heavily; he'd had enough of this. Behind his back discreetly pressed his sonic screwdriver, sending powerful waves outwards. Getting the attention of the thing's lackey's coming hell for leather at them right now.

He bent down to the child, grasping her hand firmly. She had been fearfully watching the commotion in the distance, but her gaze instantly locked on him, full of trust.

"Now, when I say, you're going to run, right?" A firm nod. He smiled warmly. "Good".

They were nearing, bearing spears and other monstrosities they called weapons.

"Ready..."

They were roaring, coming to claim their runaway slave. Dirty slave rings like this made him feel ill.

"When I say..." Her confident grip reminded him of those long years ago. In the basement of Henricks.

"Run."

And they ran.

The Doctor always ran, and this time he was most definitely running away. To save a life, he reckoned.

He was running away from himself.

* * *

Wow, 9 alerts on this already? Shame there's not a lot of chapters left...but enjoy it while it lasts. And please review, feedback is much appreciated!


	6. She Heals

He sits by his office window, fingers playing upon the leather face of the journal in his lap. He said to Rose that he'd never keep anything from her, with an earnest honesty that made her chuckle. The Doctor did keep a diary, but only scribbled in it from time to time, never doted upon it daily or anything. Rose had then taken his and explained she loved how was being so determined as to be not like the Doctor, to be more open about how he felt -but that despite that, they each had their secret thoughts and feelings.

She had picked up two leather journals when on a shopping trip, on for each of them. His, she had laughed, had to be deep blue one. Not quiet TARDIS-blue, but it would suffice. But, with a pang as he held it clasped in his hand, he recalled another journal. River's.

Still. Having been bitter and full of stormy thoughts, he'd taken to the pen quite quickly, jotting down hasty thoughts. Turned out that it really did it hlp, and so reflecting on it all was so much easier now.

He wasn't sure whether it was irony that he was in a similar situation to those months back in 1913. But with the exception of the Family, sinister scarecrow minions, and his idiot human self. Regardless of him seeing a bit of Rose in Joan, the fact he's been caught up romancing her whilst Martha suffered still filled him with guilt. Even though he'd been powerless to do anything -even though it had been _him_ doing it.

And that was why he vowed there wouldn't be a repeat of that. He wouldn't be reticent in expressing his affections for Rose anymore.

That was said once he'd thought over their being together -_stuck here, he'd said_. He really had thought over his, well, thoughts and realized this was a blessing. Even if his sire hadn't given it properly.

After his funny spell in the hotel, it was like a window had been opened somewhere. He felt...enlightened, almost.

And a few days Pete made it to them -and the ride to the Zeppelin port in Bergen wasn't all unpleasant. That Time Lord part of him longed for space, for freedom, and being cooped up in a dusty jeep for a few hours made him more than a little uncomfortable. Rose's gentle touches to his arm, and the feel of her fingers wraps around his slightly cooler ones helped him make it through.

The journey by zeppelin made him aware of the disadvantages to a human body; it -or rather his brain- decided the puttering of a flying motion was one it couldn't stand. He spent the majority of the flight cooped up in tiny toilet cubicle, groaning pitifully as his stomach protested and roiled.

Later, all exhausted, sandy -and him smelling quite frankly awful- made it through the towering mansion doors. The little boy that was Tony finally awoke to the 'not-Doctor' -disappointed to find that he no longer possessed the 'mwagical blue box' that his sister had told him. But the tyke soon brightened up when he realized the Doctor would be with them permanently.

_Forever._

Days then passed, with their relationship bumbling along with a frustrating _sameness_.

Then it was two weeks since they had been there. Pete developed all the necessary documents- effectively creating a back story for him; in his mid-_thirties_, bit of a maverick (ran away from home, no siblings) and several doctorates. With those qualifications...well, Jackie had, with a look, suggested he find his way and start providing for himself.

The Doctor (who was, to his relief, still the Doctor...) soon secured a position at Coventry University, who were in need of an experienced lecturer and research leader. Eagerly he immersed himself in the work, grateful for something to _do_. Somewhere to use his knowledge for good. And he did enjoy it; he felt like he _belonged_.

And among humans who were intelligent, resourceful. The sort of humans who earned his respect, and made him like Earth so much. It was nice to put his technobabble-prone mouth to good use, without any eyes glazing over.

It was almost as if he was among his own kind. The other half of him.

But, really, he was just burying his head in the sand. Using work to avoid the tension between him and Rose. All the while, building and building, with every glance, or subtle touch.

It was driving him crazy. The Doctor had felt like this to some extent, but he'd been able to control it, hide it. This Doctor couldn't be more awful at disguising such things. Damn this body.

And then there were the emotions. Bloody, convoluted emotions. One moment he was enjoying a happy moment with Rose, the next he was snapping at her for some reason.

She said she understood, but there was hurt clear on her features.

And so he just employed the ignore technique; desperately tried to. He was unravelling inside, everything taut like strings on a bow.

With one careless movement, they would snap.

One evening, he did.

* * *

He was like fire and ice, thunder and lightening. One minute so peaceful, then restless, pacing tightly.

One word from here, and he rushed like a storm. There was no stopping him.

And with fire, if you were n't careful, you could get burnt easily.

Lightening never strikes the same place twice, but, very rarely, you could just b the unfortunate one in that spot.

Ice was unforgiving; like water, it could give or take. Make you or break you.

She was shocked, yes, overwhelmed, but saw it coming. Had seen his muscles bunched with tension, posture rigid. He flinched when she laid a hand on his shoulder, then his chest. Implored him with her eyes.

She was the Bad Wolf. She had the power to tame the Storm.

_He needs you. That's very me._

She could heal him.

And she now understood the Doctor's words, and respected his reason for leaving them.

It was just a matter of time.

She could - and _would_ -give him that.

* * *

Hm...not sure about this. Sort of got away from me, and there are elements that make it...I don't know. Just different? lol


	7. He Wants

In a frenzy, the Doctor had torn down into the depths of his ship, scouring through the rooms. His earlier search, before landing on Carthax, only served to remind him of what he had lost over the long, long years.

The doors bags open and he storms inside, breaths making his chest rise and fall, his crumpled suit protesting against his own body. Her room is dank, dark, and the scent of her -strawberries, light and gold and _happiness_- ghosts over his face. He breathes in in greedily, scared suddenly that h can't remember her image so well now.

He can barely see anything; trips over a discarded heel, but dares not to turn on the light. He'll only see more clearly, and then where would that leave him. The Doctor's current predicament wasn't exactly a happy one.

He'd been in the library, when it had struck him.

He and his clone weren't telepathically connected -at least he thought not. But then the gaping, empty maw of the Void made sure of a lack of connection. It was doing his job for him; cutting them off. Making him forget.

But, it was as though he'd felt his -their- happiness on some level.

Maybe, it was just an echo of the TARDIS walls, her letting out of the positive energy from a few days ago. When this room was filled with people. Old and new. Six minds, six people. As it should be.

But now there was only him.

Inside he seethed with hot, lethal jealousy at the thought of his clone making that claim first. Bonding with her on a higher level.

_It should have been him_.

But Rose would have been for ever for that. For days, weeks, years. Time would run its course, and she would have moved on.

Because he couldn't give her that. And plus, it was highly nonsensical idea. He was a Time Lord, wasn't one made for the emotional trappings of her kind of life.

That's why he gave her that gift. _Himself_.

But.

It still. wasn't. fair.

He trips over a towel, or a shirt, or something, and gains his balance just in time, fingers clawing onto the bed-side table. In the process he knocks over several knick-knacks -jewellery, trinkets, bits of alien tech -_how did she of hold of that?-_ and dried, used make-up.

He dusted his hands down, and the TARDIS turned up the lighting. Revealing to him a room in a freeze-frame. She had expected their life together to go as normal. Hadn't expected to be thrown out at all. He sat down on the half-made bed, palms keeling into his face.

How did this even happen?

His eyes hungrily swept round, drinking in what _was._

They stopped on the tall mirror by the vanity, coated with a thin sheen of dust. Slowly, he got up, brow creased, and crept over to it. No-one was in the room, obviously -no one was _onboard the TARDIS- _and yet he had to be silent. To keep her memory alive.

He saw himself: haggard, unshaven, bleary-eyed. Too scared to act, to cowardly to face the truth.

His fist clenched, and the sonic waves pulsed. Ragged cracks appeared in his reflection, twisting it into an insane, demented countenance.

The shards fell, lethal and winking at him. Taunting him with what would never be.

He left the room, locked it behind him, and vowed never to go again.

* * *

Later that night, he'd taken to the Zero room, mind screaming, but instead his bitter mind envisioned it a grotesque hall of mirrors.

_Coward. Infidel. Nightmare._

Each one whispered things, but he shook his head at them, defying them. Wouldn't believe them.

Looked back at himself.

And hated it.

He turned the sonic over in his palms. It would only a take a single press. Hardly any energy input, but, the output would be...far better.

He smirked.

It only took a single _something_ to change a life.

A single kiss_...I can see all of time and space, at the whats, all the ifs, all the ever-could-bes...I think you need a Doctor_

A single glance, or a hand hold.

A single word. Or none at all. _You never say anything!_

A single push of the button. _A big threatening button that should never ever ever be pressed._

He could do it.

_He was the Doctor._

_But. Something snapped._

Sonic waves fled the blue tip, and the glass shattered. The crack and tinkle of glass was like a symphony to him. He stood on it, got lost in the silicon waterfall, debris slicing his skin, hacking at his suit.

Still, he smiled.

The TARDIS could only look on in anguish.

* * *

The human Doctor and new fiancee were snuggled up together on the hillside. A pink, sparkling lump of mineral sat between them, glowing, reflecting their love for each other.

He could barely contain his excitement. And yet...

He shuddered.

Something was up.

It was...but -no, it couldn't be.

He swallowed, and tried to keep his discomfort discreet. Forgetting that Rose sat next to him, pressed tight into the angular planes of his body.

It was mid-March, fresh, but an overly pleasant evening. But the hairs on his nape stood erect and the shiver that traced icy fingers down his spine was nothing to do with the cold.

This was him. The Doctor.

He could sense it on a very low level. Or maybe, it was just a gut feeling. A reflection the insecurities that still lay inside him.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He shook it off quickly. His sire didn't trouble him any more, and this Doctor didn't want to be a burden. He could live a safe life.

And plus, there were new hopes for them now. They had a future.

All his worries- at least, the majority of them- were gone.

Clearly, the Doctor's hadn't. But, they never would.

"It's nothing." He smiled, and turned to kiss her softly, channelling his love through it.

One thing his sire would never have.

Because He just kept running.

* * *

No, before any of ya ask, the Doctor is not going to turn into the Valeyard. :3 It's just a crazy stage I imagined him having before _Planet of the Dead_, and all that after.


	8. Harvesting the Heart

Here be a fluffy chapter for all my lovely readers...:D

* * *

"Rose, please! Just this time?"

"But it's stupid."

"Rose, meditation isn't stupid.. It's been around since...well, _ever_. Go back, ooh, a handful of millenia, way back, and there was Philo of Alexandria. Smart man. Good with numbers, too. Bit ahead of his time, though..." The Doctor pursed his lips, and Rose could practically hear the gears in his Time Lord brain turning, readying his mouth to launch into some monologue.

"Oh, and _then_, there was Plotinus." He'd donned his glasses now, and was pacing a little about their room in a frenzied excitement.

Her mouth quirked. "Plotinus?"

"Yep. But," he squinted at her, "getting back to where we were..."

Rose wasn't obliging this easily. And more for the sake of feeling, well...silly. It was all a bit overrated, like horoscopes and all that... She tried again.

"Yeah, just because well they did doesn't make it _not _stupid."

The Doctor sighed, noting her folded arms as her flag of stubborn defiance. "Oh, Rose, Rose, ye of little faith..." He padded over to where she was perched on the window-seat and grasped her forearms gently in a bid to prise them open.

And then he pouted.

"Please?"

Oh, that just wasn't _fair_. He knew what that look, that voice did to her insides.

One curious palm danced its way up her arm, sliding upwards and meeting the fabric of her dress sleeve where it began. His voice was rich and coloured with something she couldn't quite identify as he spoke, peering coquettishly at her from under long lashes.

"For me. Just this once..." He had now taken her hands between his slightly cooler, larger ones, and began to stroke the webbing between thumb and finger.

"I want to make sure you're healthy." His tone darkened and lowered more, if it was possible, to a timbre she's never heard before. "There's no telling what harm the Ka'Taan could have done..."

Rose shivered, and mustered a half-smile. She wanted to make him happy -less bitter- but he still had his odd turns that were...frightening. Because he was human. More vulnerable.

Pleased at his success, a grin that threatened to split his face grew quickly out of nowhere, and he was practically bouncing on the balls on his feet.

"Brilliant. You won't be let down. Well, I say let down, but, new _different_ -human- me...who knows if I've still retained those Time Lord abilities, hm?"

"I s'pose...but, why? I mean, yeah, the Kah'Taan, but...why?"

He gave a non-committal half-shrug that was unbecoming of him and sort of told her this wasn't entirely for her benefit alone.

"Doctor..."

He sighed, plonked himself down on their bed with a soft _whump_ and beamed at her with outstretched hands. She could practically hear his eyebrows waggling.

"Okay, okay, just don't count on me doing it right or anythin'"

"I don't know what is is with you, Rose. You doubt yourself too much. Now..." He closed his eyes, raising his chin slightly and taking her hands in his own again.

A few moments passed, and Rose dithered between doing the same or just watching his peaceful boyish features.

A frown then crumpled said features. "Rose...I can tell you're not doing it..." he drawled.

She rolled her eyes, then closed them, feeling a spark jolt her senses as his hands came to rest against the sides of her head. For some time he stayed like that, and the only thing she was attuned to was the gentle, rhythmic stroking of her temple, and his soft breaths falling on her.

"Well?"

"Hm..."

"Ya gonna do it or what? Thought you'd be good with all that mind jiggery-pokery..."

"Yeah...I did come first in jiggery-pokery, didn't I? And then there was you. You failed in hullaballo."

"Oi!" But she couldn't help but let the smile eat her features up.

"All the same...can't just go blundering in there. Might be scary."

"You calling my head scary?"

"Well...Rose Tyler's mind...what horrors could possibly lay there, in the darkn- Ow! Rose!" His lack of sight had made him unawares of her unleashing a Tyler slap. Only half of a slap, and on his arm, but a slap nonetheless.

"Alright, just get on with it..."

"Frankly, I'm hurt." Again, the unmistakable pout. But -it wasn't working. Oh. She had her eyes closed. Damn.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well. Right. Anything you don't want me to see, make that thought a door, and then close it."

He felt her relax, and then tentatively prodded, probed, sought entrance. At first her 'doors' were more like steel-enforced barricades, and he barely suppressed a frustrated sigh. Just a bit more...Ah.

Then he was in, and an amalgam of sights and sounds and tastes were crashing in, swamping him like a tidal wave. Flashes of her childhood flickered before him in a haze: snatches of her mum, Mickey, red bicycles, lonely, frigid Christmases and a boy with torn jeans and dilated eyes.

The emotion was... overpowering. Even human, better to control these things, he was faltering under it all.

Her first love. Excited thoughts, tinted with that teenage excitement of acceptance, youth and learning. Her and Mickey, again. He ruthlessly stamped down the jealously boiling just under the surface.

Too much.

Then there was fear, coloured with a little lust, all heady hormones and adrenaline. A dark figure, and then physical memory linked to it that made the Doctor pull a face.

He shook it off, and flicked forward. Her thoughts were surprisingly neat and well-catalogued. Each turn through those pages made the corridors burn and glow even brighter as the emotion reached an nape-tingling intensity.

Overpowering him.

He was in those metaphorical shoes -but what an experience it was. He saw, felt -_heard_- their first ever meeting. The Other him, the Him that reflected his own self but a year ago. So long ago. Time was but a linear path he and Rose lived by. It had nothing on them, not after everything they'd seen...

She was sure her cries were falling on deaf ears -and then, there he was.

It amazed him, utterly stumped him how he was also stupid enough to leave her behind like that. A few words from his ship and some serious thinking over soon changed that, but it just brought into focus what an impact she still had.

Something that would never leave them.

Her more recent memories were clearer, sharper. Golden specks floated about in the havoc, drawing his eye. Each brighter than the last, like dust motes. His physical self reached out, and tried to grasp one with spread fingers.

As he did so, it gleamed and glowed brighter, and Rose shuddered. He, on the other hand, frowned in deep concentration.

Tried again, imagining himself with a delicate-fibre net, eclipsing all with one fell swoop.

They were like tiny, gilded butterflies, each leaving a shining mist. The mass of them was blinding and effervescent, and he winced at the sight.

A single touch -and who knew what could happen.

But, then, he slipped, crushing the writhing mass.

It happened.

Light, shrinking and then growing, rays spreading out like fingers to encompass him and every nook and cranny and recess of her mind. Growing and growing until the place was tingling with electric and he could feel the wave about to break.

_Just...a little...more.._

It was like watching an imploding star turn into a giant, then a supernova. Breaking down, defiled -only to become something better, more beautiful.

Everything around him was just a golden haze.

He heard her voice in all of it, flicked his head around, ears straining for the source.

_Doctor!_

But was that _him_ she was calling?

Too late.

The wave reached its crescendo and then crashed down in arcs heavy with emotion. It suffused his synapses with something _glorious_, the current travelling up and up and _up_, to where it met the tip of his spine.

Then everything went numb.


	9. Rise Against

Emotional roller-coaster much? Yep. But there's even more shaking angst to come.

Thanks to all who have alerted, and especially thanks to those who have reviewed last chapter, namely: scifigeekgirl, A Who Down in Whoville, Dreamcatcher49 and ValaEnVash. You guys really keep me motivated :) *cyber hugs*

* * *

When the Doctor came to, his mental self lay slack, and his synapses still fizzed and crackled with that current.

It seemed, so far, that no real damage had been done. The shining corridors were evidence enough of that. And yet.

He felt something was wrong. The results of what he'd just done -accidently, mind- weren't necessarily unpleasant, but, oh, Rose trusted him and know he's gone and done_ that_.

As he turned to leave, something caught his eye.

In the ether a single golden thread twisted and furled. Beads of energy seemed to course up and down its length, pulled to and fro by an invisible tug-of-war.

He swallowed at the sight, it confirming his suspicions.

Okay, so it wasn't all that bad.

And with her very weak telepathic skills, Rose would hardly notice, surely...

But then...she _trusted_ him. She'd said so.

So, therefore he had to tell her.

And he would, he told himself as he slipped from her mind, with firm resolve.

_Wouldn't he?_

* * *

He was quite nonchalant about it, and perhaps withdrawing his hands from her temple a little too quickly.

She was still held under the spell of the pleasant after-effects, no doubt; eyelids fluttering slightly as they were both brought back down to their neat little house tucked on its street corner.

"Oh."

He pretended not to notice that really, merely grunted a questioning noise as he turned to play with the hem of the patch-work quilt.

"Doctor, what was -"

"Just after-effects. All that energy unleashed -well, overwhelmed us both, I should say. But, " he waved an airy, dismissive hand about, "no harm done. Seems you have a very strong mind, Rose Tyler."

Her brow crumpled, nose scrunching up in that adorable way he loved. "But...how?"

"Oh, Rose. You amaze me more every day." He beamed.

_Didn't she realize just how much?_

She blushed under his admiring scrutiny, still not used to having the Doctor all to herself even after all these days, weeks and months.

_A year, she thought. Where had the time gone?_

Her gaze turned to the small gem snugly fitted to her ring finger. Tomorrow, it would be their first anniversary.

_A year since they were married_. On that day, when her world was falling apart, she never would've have seen something so monumental in her future. Married. To the not-quite-Doctor.

But the Doctor all the same, regardless of his single, solitary heart. Rose suddenly found herself positively beaming at him, and squeezing his hand tightly in between her own.

He jumped at the sudden contact. "Oi, " he complained softly. "Weak dorsal tubercle in this hand, remember?" He raised said hand, waggling the fingers for emphasis.

Her smile softened as the memories came flitting in. Her, so naive, so unsure of this bright-eyed skinny ruffian now clad in _Her_ Doctor's battered leather jacket, jumper and jeans.

"Yeah...all I remember really was the hopping for your life part. You didn't look half daft, y'know."

The Doctor pulled an injured expression out of nowhere, bottom lip sticking out again. "I'm hurt. Again."

He left a heavy, breathy sigh escape his lungs and slumped onto his back, head falling into her lap.

"What about...Fish and chips, sausage and mash, beans on toast...Oh! And turkey."

"You rubbished my mum's cooking. _Great_ way to start a new relationship..."

He could tell was playful, mocking, but there was something else underscoring it all. And a tremor of an ache needing to be filled, a void of loss deep inside her.

He blinked. Wait. What _was_ that?

He concentrated hard on the shimmering pink and gold in his mind, feeling the sadness irradiating from them. In turn, his own silver-blue aura seemed to droop.

Rose suddenly sat up, poker-straight. She had been threading her fingers though his hair, and pulled away as if burned. Looked at the hand, then to him, his nonplussed concern, and back again.

"Hm."

"Rose?"

"I...dunno."

"Probably just the aftermath of the connection." Her fingers were drumming a light rhythm on his forehead as she gazed out the large window. "Rose. It's fine." Her fingers slid in between his long thin ones, threading them together tightly. _Never let you go._

She didn't reply -didn't meet his pleading yes- and that sparked panic in him. Had she figured it out? Would she be made -possibly even leave him?

"Your heart's racing..."

Again, his throat grew thick and his Adam's apple bobbed as he found it hard to swallow once more.

Silence.

"Doctor?"

Fear, fear that he shouldn't be feeling, poured into him. His body readied itself, tensed, wanting to bolt.

"Doctor, look at me."

Yes-no. He couldn't. Couldn't let her see.

"Doctor...is that..?"

Her question remained unanswered still, and the mattress dipped as her weight shifted and then his head was out of her lap, framed gently between her palms and she was staring into his soul.

_He wanted out._

"Don't shut me out, Doctor." Her gaze dipped, eyes downcast, and his lonely heart sank. Even quieter a voice then:

"Talk to me."

His pulse was thrumming hard, beating a violent tattoo in his chest and neck and groin.

"I-"

He was desperately trying to fight those human impulses. It was telling him to stay, to reason. His heart.

But his hard-wired brain had seen those red flags, and slowly a mass of chemicals was slowly shredding away his sanity.

The thread thinner. His mouth opened, but then closed; opened and closed, making him the gaping goldfish.

Rose's painfully obvious concern only made his guilt grow more intense. She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek -and then he jerked away, biting his lip and quaking inside as her eyes widened in shock as his refusal.

_As if she repulsed him._

He was perched on the bed, half leaning towards her, half away, braced backwards, ready to spring.

_Who would go first?_

Her ever-caring nature saw past even her own hurt, and took even more pity on him. The welling eyes were not for her, but for him.

_He didn't deserve her._

And so he turned and bolted out the room, footsteps barely echoing.

The one good thing with being on-board the TARDIS in those old days was that you knew when the Doctor ran.

Here, the plush nocturnal blue carpets cushioned his escape, and she was left sitting, her heart fracturing that bit more.


	10. Kissing in the Rain

Hope what has actually happened is clearer now x Hasn't been completely resolved yet, but I wanted to get the gritty stuff out of the way. Fluffy love and revelations for you next anyhoo x :3

Oh, and for the human Doctor's 'breakdown' stages, I was sort of inspired by David's character Alan in _Recovery..._

* * *

He was running, breath catching and bouncing raggedly with every rapid step he took. His Converse-clad feet slid on the dew-slicked grass, and above, the greying clouds rumbled angrily.

With each stride his heart was racing, his muscles pumping battery acid as he pushed his human body to its very limit.

_Faster and faster_.

He barely gave the locals perusing the park a second glance, and they didn't care for him either. His world flashed by in a blur of colours, the verdant greens and pale blues and greys merging together.

Like Rose, and Jackie and Pete, he could be loved, be an icon in this world. He was married to the Vitex heiress, after all.

He didn't crave that sort of attention. The Doctor just wanted...silence. Blissful...silence.

In his haze of thoughts his gaze was suddenly fixed on a passer-by; the woman's fire-red hair that he felt more than slightly envious of. Her head was dipped, fingers steepled a little, but downwards.

He jerked into action, his physical body one step behind his brain. The thin soles of his trainers dug into the earth, their rough surfaces failing to catch. He slipped, one foot flailing, setting his entire body into unbalance, and like a line of dominoes, he fell.

The springy vegetation cushioned the fall, absorbing a fair amount of the shock, but even so the Doctor grunted as he collided with the ground, gravity forcing him cruelly downwards. Crushing the air of his lungs, winding him.

The impact hurt and bruised his bones -it was only a fall, and he could cope with the ache radiating through his chest and abdomen, but even so he was rapidly falling into that tunnel, soon to be lost in a gaping pit of despair.

The greedy gasps he took soon became muffled with the presence of tears. His throat burned, jaw aching and his eyes and fingertips prickling as he fought it off.

He was...better than that. He'd promised to be strong for her.

Maybe the Other Doctor was right. In many ways they were different, and in more ways they were the same. He _was_ born in blood and anger -in war- and his ruthless stamping down of the bitterness was coming back to bit him.

And biting it was, unforgiving and vicious.

His energies were spent. And maybe it was time to let go, to own up. To try and be stronger, not just for Rose, but for himself. Show _himself_that he could there for her -could be supportive- Rassilon, he was her _husband_, and yet she was practically baby-sitting him half the time.

Why hadn't he just _said_?

They were equals now, so he could do more wrong, but be more accepting of his imperfections.

That word took his mind back to a long while ago, to when he'd been furiously working on a project -something to occupy his time- and failing anf failing as a result.

Rose had come to his part of the laboratory to find vials smashed, their contents everywhere. Crumpled up and torn papers and snapped pencils littered the desk. In the centre of it all, like a ruined shrine, stood his 'project' now demolished, a hunk of mineral and metal.

She had finally found him wedged in between two desks, curled up small. His torn lab coat lay dead next to him, a puddle of failure amid everything else.

After that, he started being more open. Until things started going right, which lead to his maverick nature and curiosity. He'd succeeded in constructing a near-replica of the sonic screwdriver, and had built a container to support their growing TARDIS. He'd been delighted, and flushed to find that she was essentially feeding off their bond -their love- always growing brighter everyday. After their wedding day, she'd grown twice her normal size.

Then came the Kaa'Taan, and their leader poking about in Rose's mind. They were a highly telepathic species, and to them she stood out like a peacock among a flock of dauby chickens. The Bad Wolf had muddled with her mind some, and he was naturaly curious.

It couldn't hurt to take a peek, right?

But his ignorance and lack of professionalism had instead cemented that faint bond between them. Permanently. Stronger.

In some civilizations, it was considered. On his planet, it had been a run-of-the-mill thing.

But that didn't make it right.

The process was one that was very much two-sided. After all, if you were going to have someone in your head for the rest of your life, they had to the right person...

And, it was tricky process. But he'd done it.

He tamped down the self-satisfaction that began to build in his stomach, bubbly and light.

Bonding was a curse, too. _Til death do us part_, literally.

The Doctor shuddered, only just becoming aware of the warm rain pattering down on his skin and clothes. The cleansing effect of if -plastering his hair to his scalp- sent a tremulous dichotomy through his veins.

It was...difficult to process. That he'd ran, and didn't want to go back. And yet Rose was his only home.

Well, and the TARDIS, but she was a baby, a hunk of coral about the size of the average microwave. Still growing. Still so vulnerable.

His tears had subsided a little, but the soft rains were washing them away -that, and the dirtied grazes on his palms.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

* * *

"Doctor."

Her voice was a whisper, soft, pleading, and yet not asking of anything. She was soaked to the skin, and the park was devoid of life. The rains were blurred and seemed silver as the long streaks feel, hitting the ground soundlessly.

_Where was he?_

Rose just didn't know anymore. The Dcotr was normally so comfortable in alien surroundings, could navigate anywhere at the drop of a hat- but this Doctor had nowhere to go. She knew about the baby TARDIS, but, for once, what help was she?

No-one could help him anymore.

And perhaps the Doctor had been wrong. He was a free spirit, not one crafted for the life of nine-to-five work, the papparazi and politics and -marriage.

She stopped, heart in her mouth. _Did he even mean it? Had he truly wanted to be with her in that way?_

The Doctor was just so hot and cold at the moment. What had just happened was a good example enough.

When he was a Time Lord, maybe it was a good strategy. Her jaw tightened in frustration as her gaze cast about only to bring no fruition.

But now, he couldn't keep doing this. Running away, sticking his head in the sand and hoping it would just _go_. She had suffered two years of hurt and loneliness -and work without a single break to find a way back.

Now, it was time to start being honest, and not act like a bloody child.

She then saw the incongruous blot of blue and black in the wide green field. It was motionless.

As she began to run, it was a if two steps down the stairs had been missed, that she was tripping too as his lifeless figure came into clearer focus.

Her anger softened to deadly panic.

He was in that same fetal repose, but at least this time his arms weren't shielding his head as if some explosives were near. This told her he wasn't as likely to explode at her, either.

He started slightly, aware of her presence, and his back, spotted with wet, stiffened.

"Oh, no you don't..." That was mainly to herself, barely audible, as the signs of his child-like behaviour of hiding came to the fore.

This was a tricky procedure. It just needed to be done, one step at a time. Carefully.

She knelt down gingerly, grimacing as the wet began to seep through her trousers but remained her composure, and slowly, ever so slightly curled her fingers around his shoulder.

He didn't flinch. Didn't move. Rose breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

Quietly spoke his name. He turned his head a fraction of an inch to her, but otherwise ignored her presence - _her existence_.

"Doctor...we need to talk. Because, if we don't," the tears now coming through and she caught her sob in a breath, "I- don't want to lose you again, Doctor."

This wasn't a sympathy, nor was it to manipulate him. This was...her truth.

He still didn't react. And then she let the tears fall fast.

She was barely aware of him suddenly next to her, the sorrow on his features reflecting her own.

He smelled like a confusing mixture of earth and time, and his dampened palms cupped her cheeks, thumb brushing her trembling lip, fingers brushing the tear stains with an ineffable tenderness. As if he was trying to brush away her sorrow. Sorrow _he_ had caused.

The syllables stuck in his throat and felt odd on his tongue but they got past the lump in his throat. "Please don't cry."

The oddness of it all made her want to laugh instead, at the mess the pair of them had got themselves into through simple lack of communication. It burst from her lip, and was a contagion that made the corners of his mouth quirk.

And Rose might have, normally, been embarrassed with the two of them kneeling face-to-face in the sodden park. But, it was interaction, something that he'd been missing dearly.

He'd just been too afraid to ask for it.

"So...where does this leave us now, Doctor?"

He had that knowing look on his damp face, the kind that always drove her mad.

He leaned forward, and whispered just that one word: "This."

Then, he kissed her. Nothing overly spectacular, and as Rose felt the warm droplets pelt her back, she couldn't help but laugh into his mouth at the terrible cliché.

He pulled back and tried not to look injured. "Am I really that bad a kisser?"

That stopped her bout of giggles and softened her heart. "No, that wasn't-never mind. Come on." Rose got up, pulling him to his feet with her, and feeling the slack in his body. Then, a thought came to here. "Allons-y, then."

She'd been afraid to say it, scared of using the catchphrase in case it hurt him emotionally.

She waited. His face didn't cloud over, nor did it have any true expression registered.

Then, an immense grin broke out and she couldn't be happier, even though she told herself she shouldn't.

"That's my line..."

"And?" She had put forward her trademark grin, tongue peeking out teasingly.

He beamed and then tugged at her arm without warning -and then they were running across the slick grass.

And each time Rose slipped a little, he was there to catch her.


	11. Bliss

Salt- Final Chapter

Did you miss me? :D Sorry for completely disappearing off of the radar...but Uni saps my time. I mean, when I'm not in lectures or studying, I'm sleeping/drinking coffee...

You all knew this would come...eventually... :p

A sequel is in hastily-scribbled note form...not sure what it'll be called...maybe 'Wolves and Ashes'? More angst to come, of course [heh].

I don't usually ask this much...but please review. I'm quite rusty... xD

* * *

**Bliss**

Benevolent stars wink at each other in the half-dark, casting their glow on the two weary travellers. One positively radiating happiness; the other deep in contemplation, able to feel said other's happy swells of content.

And, yet, despite everything, there's the _tiniest_ glimmer of doubt.

Him, born out of blood, and war, and anger. It only made her so much easier to love, but he wanted a share in it, too. He still couldn't quite grasp that her mind was untainted, even if a hollow dimness lingered around her eyes.

And…couldn't. Time Lord neuroses crept through the human barriers. The cold prickled at his flesh, damp seeping from the rain-speckled ground through his trousers.

_Not_ pinstriped ones.

After all, there had to be some kind of _thing_ that separated, well, this him from the Other. In the beginning he was left glaring at his reflection. Hating it. Self-loathing. His thoughts had even lapsed onto the notion of plastic surgery.

_Only human_, he dismissed. He was loathe to do something so dramatic, that would show clear his insecurity.

And, yet: he had coped. Somehow. Impossibility wasn't something he considered, but –now- there were no more far-reaching stars, new horizons and brand spanking new civilizations to discover.

Maybe.

His mind flicked to the mineral lump now sitting on the mantelpiece, oh, about a mile away, in their apartment. Would have to move her soon as well. A wry smile crept onto his lips at the memory of his other old girl.

Warmth pressed itself into his chest, the pressure making his single pulse flicker in tandem with Rose's own.

A sigh, deep and heavy, through his nose.

_This is home now._ They had more to discover – this was just the beginning. Through the frustration, tears and admittances…those were just a preliminary to this, this wonderful, stupid, horrible, _perfect _life.

Human. Life. Not _lives_. But no longer alone.

Another glance at the stars saw them fade into the ether, smothered by nightly clouds and the hazy, waxing moon. Like when he was born, in the midst of terror.

_Stop_. He wasn't supposed to be like this anymore, he had to let her help him. Heal him. Again. And oh how he tried. Not being reticent in showing Rose how he truly, really felt.

After all, he wasn't the scared, lonely little boy who armored himself with a long coat, obscure regard and apparently one hell of a gob.

Well…He still had that, there was no denying, he smiled inwardly, one palm creeping round to her front, settling on hers, over her jacket-clad abdomen. A sudden thought struck him as he thumbed the material, his skin only a few layers away from somewhere so amazingly capable of life. The process of genetic extraction and creating a child in the Looms was all well, but nothing compared this- the marvel of life.

The image of her, swollen and burgeoning with his child –_his_- struck a note of pride. Would she even want that- children? Despite the lack of a current TARDIS, their lives were not built for domesticity. Could he do that, put an infant in that danger? Subject it to death following their every wake?

The ghost of a frown settled. No. It wasn't. But he suddenly wanted that badly. With her. Like in 1913, a whole volume of pages came to life: white petals, cheering crowds. Euphoric happiness.

A shudder went through Rose and she pressed more tightly into him, feeling his swell of content through their link. That particular explanation had gone down better than expected- after all, it had many benefits. It only amplified the physical side of their live –something very recent, mind- to fever pitch, and whilst he'd babbled about them not being genetically compatible…something tugged at the corners of his mind.

'Oh.'

Was that..? He dove further, bearing in mind what happened last time curiosity got the better of him. _Yeah, it gave you _this._ Isn't that for the better? The Doctor never would've._

Maybe if he's been given the chance..?

_What chance? Bloody coward, that one. Said so himself._

Ah. Of course. At the heart of the Gamestation, locking eyes [or eye] with the Dalek Emperor, taunted as the foe, the heathen, willing him to kill both mutant Kaled and Human, with no distinction. He didn't. It would mean sacrificing Rose too.

And that wouldn't mean this, here, _now._

The faintest threads of dusky red wrapped themselves around his silver aura, barely hanging. It –whatever it was- had very weak telepathic skills. Or…it was very young, barely out of the embryonic stage, maybe not even that…

His heart skipped, one, twice, his dark eyes widening so there was an equal expanse of white to brown.

Rose felt his whole body stiffen against the curve of her back, fingers digging into the hip, oddly silent. She craned her neck to see his wide, wide eyes. And that look she rarely saw.

One only reserved for those spectacular times. A look of stupefaction. Emotion so strong he looked almost confused by it.

'Wha'?'

'Oh, Rose…' The grin was softer than usual, but still split his face in two.

He turned round, their noses brushing, misty breaths encroaching on hers.

'How would you feel about being a mum?'

A tall, reedy figure watched from the slope of the grassy mound, the very corners of his lips curling wistfully. For him it was very much déjà vu. One of the couple let out a whoop of joy and proceeding to pounce on the other, almost sending them tumbling downhill in their lost moment. Their bliss was almost tangible.

With a last glance at the winking stars, he turned tail and headed into the depths of his ship. Leaving the night, rightly so, to the man he would never be. The one adventure he could never have.


End file.
